Reversing A Tide Of Clutter

LOS ANGELES — By the time Dorothy Breininger dropped -- miraculously, it seemed -- into his life, Lloyd Drum, at 75, had pretty much resigned himself to going to jail.

The reasons lay in the odiferous piles of moldering, rodent-infested clothing, furniture, books, expired coupons, bikes and bike parts -- thousands of bike parts -- that crammed his two-bedroom house and flowed over the yards, porches and garage.

Inside the house, a person had to turn sideways to navigate pathways through clutter that, in places, almost reached the ceilings. Unable to eke out space for even a bed, and bothered by the dust, Drum slept in a broken recliner on his front porch.

Drum is intelligent and well educated, a churchgoing vegetarian who likes to help others. He is also a hoarder, a seemingly indiscriminate accumulator and keeper of stuff.

As many fire officials, building inspectors, mental health workers and the families of "pack rats" can attest, Drum's situation is hardly unusual. And many familiar with the case hope that the story of Drum and Breininger, a professional organizer who agreed to help at no cost, will guide officials in developing better ways to handle a problem that mental health experts have only recently begun to understand and treat.

The threat of jail loomed over Drum. More than eight years of citations, interspersed with short-lived cleanups, eventually led to criminal charges. Last year, Drum pleaded guilty to some of the counts, was put on probation and ordered to fix the problems that posed dangers to himself and his neighbors in the working-class community of Lennox.

Drum joined Clutterers Anonymous, stopped bringing home castoffs and even sent some discarded TV sets to recyclers. But he seemed powerless against the tide of stuff that had filled his home, eating away at floors and drywall as it all slowly sank into dust and decay.

By summer, a frustrated judge had run out of patience, and Drum had resigned himself to jail, or -- even worse, in his view -- being placed under the county's conservatorship.

Looking for a better solution, Sari Steel, an attorney for the county counsel's office, located Breininger, then president of the local chapter of the National Association of Professional Organizers. Drum agreed to work with her, so the judge postponed Drum's probation violation hearing and gave him and Breininger, who runs the Center for Organization and Goal Planning, until Oct. 24 to get the job done.

Although a proud and private man, Drum allowed the Los Angeles Times to follow their progress.

"I'm grateful for the help, and maybe this will do some good for others," Drum said.

AUG. 28 -- EIGHT WEEKS TO GO

"Tell me about this space, Lloyd," Breininger, clipboard in hand, says evenly as she and assistant Jill Colsch pick their way through the living room.

Breininger has a seven-page to-do list, complete with supplies needed (commercial vacuum cleaners, trash bags, rat poison) and deadlines. Colsch takes notes and videotapes each room to help plan and create a record for the judge.

First step: Get rid of the mice and rats. Then take everything out of the house, clean it, sort it and replace what is to be kept in labeled, neatly stacked boxes. The original plan is to do this all in one day, but Breininger, after sizing up Drum, decides to do it gradually.

"If you can decide what is really important to you and give up the rest, you'll be able to use and enjoy what you love most," Breininger says, delivering what will become a mantra over the weeks ahead. "It's about setting priorities."

"I agree that I need help getting organized," Drum says, glancing around. "Somewhere in here I sincerely hope is my high school yearbook." (White Plains, N.Y., Class of 1946. He was class valedictorian.)

They move to the "bike room," a back bedroom piled to its missing ceiling with frames, wheels and gears. Out in the back yard are more bikes, more parts -- maybe 5,000 altogether, Drum estimates.

"What percentage of this do you think you could give away?" Breininger asks.

Drum thinks long and hard: "I'd say 50 percent. If you can guarantee that someone will make use of it."

In coming weeks, Breininger and Drum will seek out charities, bike manufacturers and shops. A local church takes some for its bike giveaway program. The fat-tire models are welcomed by a group in Africa.

SEPT. 12 -- SIX WEEKS TO GO

Drum has just come from Clutterers Anonymous, one of three meetings he attends each week, when he joins Breininger at a nearby restaurant to plan. She says the big push will come Oct. 13 -- Day of Overhaul on her memo -- and that she has arranged for an enormous dumpster.

Drum winces. "That's a dirty, dirty word!" But he smiles gamely when he says it.